


wash the things between whiles

by oogenesis



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Angst, Gen, Surreal, Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 06:16:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9059146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oogenesis/pseuds/oogenesis
Summary: 'Do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to it?' said the March Hare.'Exactly so,' said Alice.'Then you should say what you mean,' the March Hare went on.---Sargasso the junkyard; Sargasso the in-between, the liminal space.  Let's make it a tea party.





	

**Author's Note:**

> THIS WAS INSPIRED BY the lovely and talented amelia tsukum who several months ago made a tweet about "sargasso tea party" that i just spent a long while searching for and can't FIND IT but it never left my head so here it is. right in time for christmas
> 
> uh content warnings, vector being vector and messing with yuuma's head and it's not at all fun for yuuma. he gets slapped at one point

Yuuma is in the chair, which is ornately engraved and has traces of pink and gold paint still worn into the crevices. The chair is missing a foot, one leg of it ending in jagged pale splinters, but that doesn't matter because it is floating.

So are the other six chairs. So is the table.

There are six place settings with teacups and saucers, porcelain trimmed with chipped gold paint, a cracked teapot in the center of the table. Yuuma is sitting in front of one of those place settings. Shingetsu is across from him, at the other end of the oblong table. The other four are empty. Shingetsu who is sitting in a chair that is floating says, "Yuuma, would you like some tea?"

Yuuma says, "Where's Astral?"

Shingetsu smiles and there are his teeth and Yuuma remembers - "You're Vector."

"Correct!" says Vector, clapping his hands. "You're catching on pretty quickly. Tea?"

"You're _Vector_ ," says Yuuma, the remembrance of horror creeping into his throat. "You -!"

"I'll take that as a yes," says Vector, and lifts the teapot, then "Oh, but I can't reach -"

"Here," says Shingetsu, from the seat to his right, and Yuuma yelps in surprise because there wasn't anyone there a moment ago. "I'll get it -"

Vector isn't at the other end of the table anymore. Shingetsu's eyes are as round and bright and innocent as the day he first crashed into Yuuma, and something inside of Yuuma hurts.

"Shingetsu," he says quietly, "Where's Astral?"

Shingetsu's angelic eyes meet his and he says, "Astral couldn't make it." He shrugs and pouts a little. "It's regrettable, but - Tea?"

It gurgles into the teacup and Yuuma recoils as the smell of brine hits him - the kind that has been rotted into warm foulness by sitting idle in tidepools, away from the cool living rush of the ocean. The dead, rotten-egg kind of brine. Something slides out of the mouth of the tea pot and splashes heavy into it - spiky, sickly-pale green-brown, coiling into it like a snake.

Yuuma's cup holds seawater and seaweed.

"Sargassum, to be exact," says Vector from the other end of the table. His grin hitches upward a little, canine teeth. "What's the matter, Yuuma? Don't want to drink it?"

"That's -" says Yuuma, and the dead smell of the brine hits his nostrils, works its way into his throat. "That's disgusting."

"Yuuma." Shingetsu is sitting on his left, voice crisp and cold. "As my subordinate, I expect you to conduct yourself properly in the presence of such an important host, understood? You're being extremely rude and that is unacceptable."

"You won't drink it?" Shingetsu is sitting to his right. "That's so mean, Yuuma, calling it disgusting, I never thought you would say something like that -" His voice wobbles, as though on the verge of tears.

Yuuma stares into the teacup. The water in it is yellowed against the cracked porcelain whiteness and the seaweed is like a bristling worm heavy inside it.

Somehow there are three pairs of violet eyes on him all at once, although only one other chair is occupied.

Yuuma picks up the cup, tilts it against his lips and swallows. It's salt-sour in his mouth and feels thick and heavy on the way down.

"There we go," says Vector, with flinty amusement. "See, you _can_ be made to cooperate. After all, you were such a good little toy for me before, weren't you?"

"You -" says Yuuma, and coughs to get a little of the horrible brine out of his throat. "You tricked me."

"Yes!" says Vector, propping his feet up on the dark and scratched wooden surface of the table. "I did. One of my greatest pieces of work, I should say - playing you like the proverbial fiddle, etc. Oh -!" He starts laughing, as though uncontrollably. "The look on your face when you found out! I keep remembering, and let me tell you, that was the best thing I've seen all century!"

It's the wild abandoned guffawing of just before when he was standing before them huge and sharp and alien and not Shingetsu, not Shingetsu - Yuuma can feel himself starting to shake.

"Where's Astral?" he demands again. He needs Astral to be here. He is floating in Sargasso alone with the laughing grinning demon who once pretended to be his friend and there is no cool blue mint glow beside him, no steady voice offering exasperated advice, no Astral. He is terrifyingly alone.

Vector's laughing trails off and he props his chin in his hands with his elbows on the table, studying Yuuma through catlike eyes. "You tell me."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Mmmm," says Vector, maddeningly vague, then, "Why don't you have another drink?"

The Sargassum is still floating in the teacup like a bristly intestine. Yuuma's stomach churns. "Never."

There's a soft pressure against Yuuma's right side; Shingetsu is leaning into him like he so often did. "You're so rude, Yuuma," he murmurs, and that achingly familiar voice, making it so deliriously tempting to pretend this is the true Shingetsu and all the rest some nightmare -

Yuuma picks up the teacup and takes a gulp. The Sargassum bumps against his mouth and he recoils, spilling foul-smelling water down his front. Once again it feels slimy and sick going down his throat.

"Feels awful, doesn't it?" says Vector, all cat eyes and snake smile. "Feels like something terrible moving inside you, like you're going to be sick, doesn't it?" His eyes are trained on Yuuma's, no doubt to catch the reaction to his next words: "I mean, at least now you know how Astral felt."

It hits Yuuma like something huge and biting - something that stabs ice cold fangs into him, knocking the wind out of him and leaving him bleeding and gasping. The pain of remembering is so great he has to take a moment to catch his breath. Across the table, Vector sits up with a delighted smile, his eyes wide. "Oh, you make the _best_ faces!"

"Where is he?" is all Yuuma can manage to say. "What have you done with him?"

"Me?" Vector places an offended hand on his chest. " _I_ didn't do anything, for once. This is Sargasso, where everything lost and broken and discarded ends up eventually. _You_ were the one who threw Astral away like so much trash. _You_ sent him here."

The memory that has its teeth around Yuuma tightens its hold, sinks its fangs deeper. More pain. "That's not true," whispers Yuuma. "That's not true."

"He loved you very much, you know," says Vector. "It was obvious, the way he looked at you."

Yuuma can't see Vector's face because his eyes are glued to his lap and the beneath that the churning darkness of Sargasso, dotted with junk and wreckage. "Stop it."

"He must have loved you with all his pure, innocent little heart." The table shifts. Vector must be leaning forward on it. "That pure, innocent little heart that you stomped on like a a big happy balloon just to see it pop, hmmm?"

"Stop it!" He feels sick. There's a ringing in his ears. His hands are too cold, too numb -

Astral where is Astral he needs Astral to be here he needs to apologize he needs to, to not lose him, he needs cool moon hands over his ears to block out the horrible awfulness he is hearing, he needs Astral Astral Astral

A thought comes to him in the mounting gripping panic and he seizes it like a lifeline. "But -" he says, rounding on Vector. "I didn't do anything wrong! I didn't tell him anything because you said it would keep him safe! You tricked me!"

The grin doesn't waver an inch from Vector's face. "Oh, that's true," says Vector. "That's very true." He leans forward, propping his chin on his interlaced fingers. "But what about the part where you're so easily charmed by someone who is so charmed by you? So easily smitten by someone who is so smitten by you?"

Yuuma's insides have frozen. "What do you mean?" he says, as if by pretending he doesn't remember he can erase the awful regret.

"You know what I mean," says Vector, harsh and cruel, and laughs.

"You know what I mean," murmurs Shingetsu, soft and coy, and slides his hand around Yuuma, resting his chin on Yuuma’s shoulder.

Yuuma yelps and scrambles away, and almost falls out of his chair into the void of Sargasso. As it is he has to cling tight as it pitches and rolls with the sudden motion. "Don't touch me!"

"Why?" asks Shingetsu, his big violet eyes full of hurt. "You didn't mind it before."

"That's because I didn't know you were -!" and the rest of the sentence jams in his throat for a moment. "That you were Vector, that you were lying to me!"

Shingetsu looks slightly put out by this. His cherub mouth settles into a pout. "Well - I mean, I am, but you don't have to _say_ it like that. You're so mean, Yuuma-kun -"

Then he's gone. Shingetsu's voice on his other side says, "I'm truly disappointed, Yuuma."

Yuuma wheels around. Shingetsu is sitting straight and tall with his chin resting on his hand, staring out over the emptiness of Sargasso. 

"I know it must not be easy to resist someone who's so hopelessly, obviously into you," says Shingetsu in serious, polished tones. "And laying on the flattery besides. But I expected more self control from you, Yuuma. More resistance." His gaze tilts to look at Yuuma out of the corner of his eye, laden with cold judgment. "Did you even try at all?"

He hadn't tried. He'd barely even thought. He'd been too dazzled, too flattered, he hadn't _thought_ -

Laughter and laughter from the head of the table across him. "You see, it wasn't just me! It was you, and your weakness. Just the barest push -" Vector snaps his fingers, his nails are somehow sharper, like before when he was - "if even that, and you betrayed Astral." He fixes Yuuma with narrowed eyes. "Think he'll ever recover? Think he'll ever forgive you, think he'll ever learn to trust again? To love again?"

Yuuma can't breathe and Yuuma can't breathe and Yuuma can't breathe.

"It wasn't just me," says Vector, sitting back and putting his hands behind his head, "and that's the best part! It wouldn't have been any kind of fun if I'd just lugged you around everywhere on my own, would it? The fact that you got yourself into this mess makes it so much worse for you and Astral! Gives it that extra bit of authenticity, that _sincerity_. It's beautiful, really!" He's laughing again.

"What do you want?" Yuuma manages to say.

"I'm sorry?"

"You must want something, right? Just tell me what it is!" If there isn't a _purpose_ to this neverending knife-in-his-heart laughing grinning torment, then -

"Me? Not really." Vector considers. "Although watching you squirm is pretty fun!"

"Then - why am I here? With you."

"Mmmm... beats me. Sounds like some sort of trial, maybe." Vector waves a dismissive hand. "Listen, as long as I get to watch you make those wonderful faces, I don't particularly care. And man, it's become so easy, I barely have to say anything! You're such a mess by now, aren't you? Can't even _function_ without your little blue friend by your side, how embarrassing for you!"

Some sort of trial, thinks Yuuma, and looks down at his teacup.

Well.

He picks it up and takes another gulp, then another. His throat convulses with the taste of it but he swallows it down, coughs and goes for more.

Vector regards him interestedly. "So, you're drinking it now?"

"If it's a trial," grits out Yuuma through the too-much salt taste in his mouth, "and this is here for me to drink, then it must be my job to drink it, right?"

Vector whistles. "I'm impressed! You're actually capable of critical thinking without your darling Astral there to do it all for you!" He laughs, the sound quiet and sly. "You'll be needing to get used to it, after all, now that there's no way he'll want anything more to do with the one who broke his poor little heart."

Pins digging into Yuuma's skin with every reminder. "Shut up," he mumbles, then downs the rest of the teacup. Coughing, he holds it out. "More."

"I'll get it," chirps Shingetsu from his right, and fills the teacup again. "Drink up, Yuuma-kun!"

And Yuuma does.

"Yes, that's it!" crows Vector. "Drink all of it. Drink up all of Astral's bitterness and pain, taste all the hurt you dealt, taste his broken heart! Humans are so, you, Yuuma, are so _fun_!"

Each mouthful feels like an unending agony. Yuuma would have thought he'd have gotten used to the taste by now, but -

He drains the cup. His throat is burning. He can start to taste it now, can start to taste that particular feeling that is Astral and Astral's betrayal and Astral's grief. And he thinks that he has to do this for Astral to ever forgive him, that he has to feel and understand the pain of it -

"More."

There's a little less strain in Shingetsu's arms when he lifts the teapot, which must mean it's getting lighter, right? This will be over soon, right?

"You're actually showing some self-discipline for once," murmurs the Shingetsu to his left, coolly thoughtful, and Yuuma loses it.

"Shut _up_!" he screams, rounding on him. "Shut up, shut up, you're Vector, you can't tell me -"

 _Crack_ ice-hot pain, and Yuuma is falling backwards, winded and stunned, his face stinging. Shingetsu's arm is still extended, poised in the follow-through.

"You are my subordinate," says Shingetsu - cold cold steel, a deathly unwavering gaze. "You will _not_ speak to me in that manner, understood? Keep a civil tongue in your head or I'll cut it out for you."

"You -" Yuuma's face is still smarting; he raises a hand and gingerly prods at his tender cheek, wonders if there's a handprint on there. "You _hit_ me."

"How cruel," murmurs Shingetsu from behind him. There's two of them now. They're both there, one on either side of him. His arms go around Yuuma. "There's no need for him to be like that, it's all right, Yuuma, there's nothing wrong -"

"You can't tell him that. You have no authority -"

"He's hurting! Let him be -"

"He still has feelings for Astral! Even after all the -"

"Just let him! It's not like it'll change much anymore -"

Words and sound all around him, trapping him. In the intersection between the two voices, like the pattern in overlapping waves, Yuuma thinks he can hear the sound of Vector laughing.

"Stop it!" he yells, and seizes at the teacup in front of him, because maybe if he keeps drinking the foulness they'll go away. It convulses down his throat and they do back off a little, purple eyes watching him. Purple like the glow of Sargasso around them.

One more cup. One more cup that he works his painful gagging way through, squeezing his eyes shut gulp by gulp, and then the teapot is empty. He shakes it, to make sure, and hears the tiny sloshing sound of a tiny amount of liquid. Then he breathes out, the taste of it still coating his tongue.

It's done.

He's finished.

"So," he says, and his voice rasps through the last dregs of it still caught in his throat. "What now?"

Vector is watching him with languid interest, chin propped in his hands. "I was about to ask you the same thing."

"If the trial is to drink it," says Yuuma, and coughs, "I've drunk it, what now?" The absence of Astral is still hurting him sharp in his side, and Astral's grief and anger is coiling through his stomach. "What now?"

Vector puts his feet up on the table. "Maybe the trial wasn't to drink it. Hell, maybe there was no trial. How should I know?"

"You -"

"Maybe I was just saying that to fuck with you. Or maybe I really don't know what's going on any more than you do." His eyes narrow in catlike amusement. "Either way, if you expect me to help you out here, you are far more dense and naive than I thought. It's what makes you so entertaining, really!"

Yuuma breathes and breathes through the aching of it. The darkness of Sargasso shifts lazily around them like ocean currents, with the soft hollow sound of wind. 

Vector watches him, idly running one finger along the handle of the teapot. "So, how does that despair feel, hmm?"

"Shut up," growls Yuuma, and to his horror the tight prickling heat of tears starts up in his nose. Astral is gone and there is nothing left to do and he's lost him, lost him forever -

"How rude of you," says Vector, pushing the teapot into the air with one finger. It pinwheels gently through the float-space that is Sargasso, and - and suddenly Yuuma knows where Astral is.

\- it's like in that story, isn't it, (he thinks as he moves forward, time and space dreamy-slow around him), the one he didn't pay enough attention to in class to know the name of, but it rings crystal-bell clear in his mind right now. the jar full of evil terrible things, full of hurt and fear and anger and pain and grief, and once that's all been let out taken out drunk out, what's left at the bottom is -

_grasp victory in the shining future! clustering feelings, connected by our hearts, will change the world! be reborn -_

"I know where Astral is," he says. He has one foot on the chair and pushes up, puts his knee on the table, feels it tilt under his weight. The teacups and the saucers go floating up into the air as though the gravity of the table has been disconnected.

"Oh, you do," says Vector, his legs neatly crossed even as he floats up out of his chair, up over the table, "do you?" Do you?

and Yuuma says, "Yes, I know," as he's moving over the table, the place settings floating around him, chipped china tarnished silver. "I know, because I've drunk through the pain and now we can see each other again, now that I've hurt like he's hurt -"

"Oh, you _know where he is_ , do you?" repeats Vector, his eyes narrowing to slits, his face turned snakelike, his voice returning to a chasm-deep two-world reverberation like before when he was hulking and sharp and winged. "You _know?_ "

Hands grabbing at Yuuma's pants legs, at his shoes, sending cold shock up his spine. "Don't do it, Yuuma-kun -!" "Don't you dare, Officer Yuuma -" They're pulling at him, pulling him back, Shingetsu Shingetsu repeating his name in a stabbing-familiar cacophony, and the dangerous acid-pink glow in Vector's eyes, the shadow of wings rising from his back -

"Let go of me!" yells Yuuma, and kicks their hands away away away, and as the table continues in its slow wheeling flipping over he reaches through the porcelain silver storm all around him and grasps the handle of the teapot, the porcelain handle with its old chipped gold paint along the edges. Grabs the teapot, raises it above his head, and brings it down hard -

**Author's Note:**

> feedback is very highly appreciated! i spent a lot of time on this and it's one of the things i'm most proud of that i've written so far
> 
> also please help me figure out if i should tag this "psychological horror" or "psychological drama" or what. like what's a good tag to describe what's going on here


End file.
